Keystone (Crossbreed #1)(22)

Ah. That explained his wondrous locks.

“To his left is Gem Laroux. She’s a Mage with unmatched knowledge—fluent in sixteen languages and is able to interpret many extinct languages that haven’t been spoken in thousands of years. She knows about ancient artifacts and can also decipher codes.”

I would have never guessed that from a pixie with purple hair.

Viktor gestured to the man on her left. He seemed the least friendly, and not because of the hard muscles and buzz cut that made him look ready for a cage fight. It was the cold stare he gave beneath those dark eyebrows. “And then we have Shepherd Moon, our resident Sensor. We obviously use him to investigate crime scenes and other jobs where he can use his gifts to read emotional imprints left behind. His skills are tactical combat and offending random people on the street.”

Niko sputtered with laughter at the remark and tried to hide it. “Apologies. I had a glass of wine before you called the meeting.”

Viktor clapped his hand on the shoulder of the man to his right—the same one who had slammed into me in the hallway earlier like a lunatic. “And then we have Wyatt.”

Wyatt flashed a smile at Viktor, candlelight flickering in his olive-green eyes. He was slender but fit and appeared average height, although shorter than the other men. He seemed to be the one with the most gregarious personality. “Well?” he said, urging Viktor on.

“Sorry,” Viktor replied. “I was trying to collect my thoughts on how to segue from a Sensor to a Gravewalker.”

I furrowed my brow. “What’s a Gravewalker?”

A few shoulders sagged, and Shepherd leaned back, tossing his fork on his plate.

“Here we go,” Christian said.

Wyatt cocked his head to the side and then rose to his feet. “What is a Gravewalker? See, this is the problem I have, Viktor. Nobody ever takes what we do seriously. How is the world going to know about all we have to offer if you don’t educate the young little minds?”

Gem peered up at him. “The only thing you have to offer, Wyatt, is the potato chips you leave all over the desk in the game room.”

“There’s a game room?” I asked.

Viktor heaved a sigh. “Now see what you’ve done? I have no wish to open that room to new members. It’s a distraction.”

Wyatt folded his arms. “I beg to differ. It sharpens my skills.”

“Why don’t you tell the truth,” Christian said. “You’re afraid to sit in a quiet room.”

Wyatt pointed his finger on the table. “Hey, noise distracts them.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “What’s a Gravewalker?”

Wyatt opened his arms dramatically. “Feast your eyes. I’m a Gravewalker. Born in 1803 to Nathaniel and Sarah Blessing. Raised in Tennessee and left home to leave my mark on the world when I was seventeen.”

“Times were rough?” I asked.

He huffed out a laugh. “Nine older sisters. You tell me. And before you ask, I lost most of my Southern accent a century ago. Anyhow, back to Gravewalkers. We can communicate with ghosts who haven’t moved on to where they’re supposed to go.”

I smirked. “And where are they supposed to go?”

He shrugged. “How should I know? Even they don’t know. It’s all part of the grand mystery,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Why do they call you a Gravewalker?”

Candlelight flickered against his face, making this feel more like a campfire story. “In days of yore, Vampires were staked and buried alive for all kinds of reasons. Punishment, revenge, or even entertainment. Obviously they can’t scream when paralyzed, and while Vampires have stupendous hearing, even they can’t detect a heartbeat buried beneath six feet of earth. Nor can a Mage pick up on their energy. Gravewalkers know who does and doesn’t belong in a cemetery. People paid us good money.”

“Interesting. I guess that makes going to funerals super fun.”

He dropped into his seat. “That’s a negative. I don’t like going where the freshies hang out. They tend to cling like socks out of the dryer when they find out I’m a link to the living world.”

My gaze flicked down to his hands, and I noticed letters tattooed on his fingers. If he closed his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles together, it spelled out LOST SOUL.

“Moving along,” Viktor said.

“You didn’t mention my skills,” Wyatt complained.

“Ah, yes. Wyatt here is masterful at washing dishes. He can perform a demonstration on polishing silverware after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Forget I asked, forget I asked,” Wyatt quickly said.

When Viktor turned to Christian, I said, “You can skip him.”

Gem laughed. “I like her already.”

“Might as well,” Christian agreed. “She can’t seem to help herself around all this sexual goodness.”

Viktor grumbled something and then gestured to Blue—the woman who had searched me for weapons earlier that day. She leaned forward to meet my eyes.

“This is Blue. She’s a Shifter, like me. Blue has a special gift that not many of us have. Most Shifters eventually black out when their animal takes over, except for alphas of any species. Most of us prefer not remembering; it’s how we evolved, and it serves a purpose. But occasionally there are some who are aware throughout their shift and even control their animal.”